


I'm Fine

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Mpreg, Don't Like Don't Read, Forreal., M/M, Mpreg, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, brought back by request, hope i dont regret this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: *Re-Uploaded*Stiles was usually one for ignoring his problems until they went away. This one, however, didn't look like it was leaving anytime soon.





	I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> read the bottom note before commenting at all. thanks.

It started four weeks ago, when Stiles was hunched over a toilet at 7:24 am, drying heaving until his eyes watered. He tried concealing the disgusting choking sounds he was making but only ended up sending himself into a coughing fit.

"Stiles?" He heard his fathers voice from behind the bathroom door. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" Another wave of nausea passes through him. He pauses, gripping the toilet seat. "Feeling a little nervous for the last lacrosse game."

"Son, you've got nothing to worry about," his father consoled him. He could almost see his sad smile. "The team needs you, you're an important player and you're good at what you do. And besides, you've got enough time to practice." After a period of silence he continued. "I can't stay here any longer, the departments on a new case that we have a couple of new leads on."

Once his father's footsteps started to fade further away from the bathroom door, Stiles shakily pulled himself up, looking at himself in the mirror. His pale skin was flushed, beads of sweat on his forehead. He turned on the sink, splashing his face with cold water. This was the third time in the past few days that he had woke up vomiting.

It didn't feel like a virus because the nausea was weirdly intermittent and selective to the mornings. Couldn't be food poisoning, it wouldn't have lasted this long. Stiles let his wandering mind get the best of him as he left the bathroom and sat at his desk, pulling up his laptop and typing in his symptoms.

 _Nausea._ This was his main concern, but he had taken notice of a few other changes in the past few days.

 _Fatigue_. It seemed like he was sleeping enough until he actually woke up, feeling as if he had pulled an all-nighter.

 _Food aversions._ His once favorite food, pineapple pizza, made his stomach churn one night when Scott came over after a big game. He passed it off, telling his friend he had eaten earlier.

 _Bloating_. This was the weirdest one, in his opinion. If felt as if his skin was too tight for his body, especially around his waist and feet. He felt almost swollen.

Stiles stared at the page that loaded before him, suggesting he was experiencing either pregnancy or cancer. He laughed, shutting his laptop and shoving it away. The internet always had a way of scaring you into believing shit, but he wouldn't fall for it for a second. All of these things he was feeling could be attributed to the upcoming game, he told himself.

The layer of nausea had been lifted by then, and he was feeling good enough that he grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and heading to his jeep.

He had missed first block but then again, the school should be glad he's even showing up by now. He had made it just as passing period started, giving him a chance to find his friends. Stiles had this sudden cloud of irritability hanging over him but he simply ignored it.

"Stiles!" He heard a familiar voice bound down the halls and he turned around just as his best friend smacked into his body, knocking his small frame to the ground.

Scott's eyes grew as he reached out, offering a hand to Stiles. "Oh shit man, I didn't mean to hit you that hard, I-"

"It's fine," Stiles said sharply, a drop of venom in his tone. He even sort of shocked himself with the sound of his voice and could tell his Alpha friend was just as confused. He hadn't grabbed for his friend's hand yet as both arms were snaked around his waist protectively, and for a minute he couldn't budge of out that position.

"S-Stiles?"

He snapped out of it and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the random looks of concern spotted around the hall. "I'm fine, man," he tried again, this time focusing on softening his tone.

"This isn't like..." Scott leaned in with a hushed voice. "This isn't like the Nogitsune situation, is it? You're feeling alright?"

"No, no! I mean, no it's not like that at all, and yes I'm okay! I've been sleeping fine lately." He didn't care to mention that he felt tired anyway.

"O-kay," Scott said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "You would tell me if something's up, right?"

"Of course I would," Stiles smiled reassuringly, slinging an arm over Scott's shoulder, heading to the next class.

He fell asleep at least twice in class and ignored the concerned looks his friend was shooting him. He was fine... right?

Four weeks ahead and the problem hadn't dissipated. In fact, he was trying to convince himself one morning, unsuccessfully, that it wasn't getting worse. The sickness that came around almost every morning, the fatigue, and now- his abdomen was slightly distended, just barely, as if he had eaten just a little too much. He kept staring in the mirror, turning to look at different angles to make sure this was really happening.

He needed help.

Instead of going to school that morning he headed to the vet clinic after a thankfully short bout of nausea. Of course, he wasn't an animal, wasn't even half-animal as were most of his friends, but he trusted that Deaton could not only help him with this situation but keep it under wraps to avoid inflicting stress on other people in his life. _No one needs that,_ he concluded. _Whatever this is, it's my problem_. He parked his jeep and headed in, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open, signaling a chime that let Deaton know someone was here.

"In the back, Stiles."

Stiles made his way to the back room, seeing Deaton work on the paw of a young Labrador. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Problem?" Stiles deflected, grinning. "How do you know I didn't just come to chat?"

Deaton looked up, raising a brow. "Did you want to chat?"

Stiles hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "No, not really, I-" he paced the room, feeling his anxiety suddenly rise. "I need your help."

After explaining his symptoms, Deaton stayed quiet for a moment. The chime went off again, and Deaton took the Labrador to the front to meet their owner. He walked back, still silent.

"Any ideas on what's happening to me?" Stiles asked, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Because I've got a game coming up and I can't just not go." After another minute of silence from the vet, he started to squirm. "Is there any tests we can take?"

"There's one I can think of," Deaton finally spoke up, fishing through his cabinets. After a couple seconds of searching, he pulls out a small pink and white box, walking over and placing it in Stiles' hands.

_A pregnancy test?_

"You've gotta be absolutely shitting me, right?" Stiles said with a nervous laugh.

"Have you had any sexual intercourse in the past month?"

Stiles' face heated up, his ears turning a shade of pink. "Just once, it was a one-time thing." His heart started to race as he reminded himself who exactly he let plow into his ass. "B-But Derek's a guy, and I'm a guy, and-"

"Have you heard of a carrier, Stiles?"

"Carrier?" Stiles echoed. It may have been mentioned once a long time ago at a pack meeting in the form of a joke, but he hadn't given it much thought. He gripped the small box tightly, feeling his hands get clammy. "I guess I have."

"This is quite rare, but we don't know if you are one yet. All you have to do is-"

"I know, I know how a pregnancy test works, Deaton," Stiles spat nervously. His ears heated up again. Why was he being so damn rude? Deaton was only trying to help. "Sorry, I'll just- thank you," he said, quickly heading towards the exit, box in hand.

"Try and take it easy, Stiles," Deaton called after him. "You could be protecting another life."

Deaton's final words had echoed through Stiles' head as he bounded down the road to his house. _Another life._ He shuddered. This couldn't be happening.

Who the hell would he tell about this, he asked himself as he walked into his empty house, heading up the stairs and into the bathroom. He shook his head as if to remove the thought. _Just take the test to eliminate the idea._

He held out the white stick, staring at it as if it were an alien. He exhaled shakily, unzipping his pants. He tried his best not to make a mess everywhere, peeing on the stick and holding it out, not sure what to do with it now.

He looked at the instructions on the box that said to wait two minutes. He sighed. These were going to be the longest two minutes of his life. He placed the test on the box, sitting on the toilet seat and taking out his phone. He had a missed call and text from Scott.

 _Scott_  
9:25am  
**Dude where are you**

He breathed through his nose, glancing over at that god forsaken stick on the bathroom counter.

 _Stiles_  
11:17am  
**I'm fine, just feeling a little under the weather**

Which wasn't a lie, but was pretty far from the truth. It had been three minutes now but he was afraid to look. He finally gathered up the courage, standing up and looking down at the stick.

Two lines. Two little pink lines.

He grabbed the box, searching it over frantically. Two lines, two lines, what he hell does that mean?

Two lines = positive.

He dropped the box, feeling the blood leave from his face. His breath started to become ragged, and he could feel his chest pounding a little too hard. "No. No goddamn way am I pregnant," he whispered, flinching at the last word. He took the test and shoved it as far down into the trash can as he could.

He ran into his room, which was starting to spin. He fucked Derek Hale once, just once, and this is what he gets in return? No _. No._

He couldn't call anyone. He couldn't tell Scott and scare his best friend away. He couldn't tell Derek, who seemed to have an air of "I hate you" when they weren't fucking around in his bed. He couldn't tell his dad and get disowned. He couldn't.

He couldn't breathe.

"Okay, in and out. In," he whispered hoarsely to himself. "And out." He did this for a few minutes until the hovering panic attack had faded.

What was he going to do?

He was going to pretend as if nothing happened and everything's normal. That's the right thing to do, right?

-

Another week had passed and his abdomen had grown slightly but was still small enough to be hidden under his baggy clothes. He hid his nausea as best as he could and tried his hardest to control his apparent mood swings. Nothing to see here, totally not pregnant with Derek Hale's pups, nope.

There was a pack meeting tonight and for some reason, Stiles felt way too nervous. Would they smell it on him? Would they know?

Stiles considered not going altogether but that in itself is more suspicious, and he was going his best to not raise suspicion. He took his chances and headed over to Derek's loft.

Scott, Allison, Erica, Boyd, Issac, and Lydia were already there, laid back on the long couch that took up most of the living room. Stiles slapped on his usual grin, walking in with an air of confidence that hopefully masked his internal fear.

"What're we talking about here?" Stiles asked casually, plopping down next to Scott as they all greeted him.

"Oh you know, the usual, wendigos being carnivorous monsters and all," Erica chimed.

The group got into a discussion of their next strategy regarding the wendigos. Stiles would usually be extra absorbed into the conversation but his mind was going a mile a minute. What would happen when he starts to show? Was it too late for an abortion? No, he could never bring himself to do that anyway. Derek might just gut him like a fish when he finds out anyway...

"-iles. Stiles. Dude." Scott was snapping his fingers in front of Stiles' face and he blinked.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, just kinda zoned out. I'm gonna, uh, I'm gonna get some water." He stood up, ignoring the rushing feeling in his head and heading to the kitchen.

In there was no other than Derek Hale, leaning on the counter, sipping a black coffee. He shot Stiles a glare, but the expression immediately melted into one of confusion. "Stiles?"

Stiles walked over next to him, grabbing a cup from the cupboard. "What's up, big guy?" He could tell by the look on the Alpha's face that he was detecting something different. He swallowed nervously, filling his cup with water and taking a sip. He was starting to squirm under Derek's stare. He switched on his trusty air of confidence once again. "What? Am I that good looking? Need to take a picture? Because if so I-"

"Shut up. Shut up for a minute." Derek commanded, making the younger one fall silent. "I hear..."

"What's that Lassie? Timmy's stuck in a well?" Stiles couldn't help himself with the dumb dog jokes.

"I said, shut the hell up," Derek growled. He walked forward, gripping Stiles' now tense shoulders. "There are multiple heartbeats in here. How-"

"Well I'd say that's probably because there are living people in the other room, Derek," Stiles said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Inside, though, all he could think was _he knows he knows oh god he knows._

Derek let go of Stiles, and he took that moment to hastily leave the kitchen.

"Stiles."

Stiles flinched, slowly turning around. He was under Derek's gaze once again. "Yeah, big bad?"

Derek huffed. "You smell like a girl," he muttered.

"Mhm, it's called taking a shower Derek, try it," Stiles teased, quickly turning and leaving.

He had to go now, right now, before any of them put it together. He left the cup on a nearby table, heading to the front door. "I totally forgot, my dads making dinner tonight and really wants me to be there. The whole father-son bonding deal, you know how it is," Stiles said quickly, and before Scott could protest he was outside again, and into his jeep, where he laid his head on the steering wheel and cried.

-

He assumed he was nearly two months along now but didn't know for sure. He was taking prenatal vitamins as Deaton had suggested, and had stayed near the sidelines during lacrosse practice, as if Coach even cared. He was never on front line, so the risk of injury was thankfully low.

As scared as he was of this new situation, he felt just as protective. He didn't let anyone hug him too hard or come near his abdomen in general. It was probably instinctual, he assumed.

The day of the final lacrosse game had come, and Scott noticed how un-excited his friend was. "Aren't you pumped, man?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little anxious," Stiles said as they headed to the locker room. It wasn't a lie, these past two months had been quite a spiral since he pissed on that stupid stick.

"Alright boys, the time has come. Mankind - that word should have new meaning for all of us today..." Coach droned on into his traditional Independence Day speech that he always did before a big game.

"Something's wrong," Scott whispered, nudging Stiles' side. "You're not telling me and you said you would."

Stiles instinctively backed away. "Ah, not that I can see. Everything's fine."

"Your heart's racing. Why are you lying to me, Stiles?"

Stiles could feel his friend getting angrier but what the fuck was he supposed to do? Shout out that he's pregnant in front of the whole lacrosse team? He didn't think so. "I'm just... I'm just a little upset that I didn't make front line, is all."

Scott nodded understandably. He opened his mouth, probably to say 'that's not it and I can tell', but he was cut off by the sound of Coach's voice.

"Stilinski, you're taking Dunbar's place on the field today."

"What? I am?" Stiles couldn't help the smile that overcame him. He looked over at Scott, who had a mix of joy and shock written on his face. Holy shit, front line-

Oh.

Holy shit.

_Front line._

His smile immediately dropped, paling and wrapping his arms around his stomach. Fuck.

Maybe they'll play nice?

Before he had a chance to breathe, to back out, to tell Coach that maybe he should just be benched for the game, they were out on the field, nearly blinded by the bright lights. He blinked to adjust and saw his father in the stands, next to Melissa. They both had big, hopeful smiles on their faces and Stiles couldn't help the wave of nausea that passed over him. He couldn't disappoint them.

He fastened on his helmet and spun the crosse in his hand, taking his place on front line. He took a few deep breaths, reassuring himself that the game only lasted an hour. One measly hour. He could do this.

The whistle blew and the ball disappeared from his sight. He almost sighed in relief, at least he wasn't the target at the moment. He finally saw the ball was in Scott's crosse and he smiled, watching him make the first goal.

Time passed, it was the third quarter of the game now and he tried his best to look like he was participating while not doing anything physical at all. His mind was a little better focused as it always was at a game, but it didn't eliminate the hanging worries in the back of his head.

"Stilinski! Get your head in the game!" Coach shouted.

Okay, so somebody noticed. He muttered curses under his breath just as the ball rolled to his feet. Fuck. _Fuck!_

He scooped up the ball and started running. _Run, run, make the shot, you've got this-_

A body came flying towards him, shoving his stomach hard and sending him flying to the ground.

There was a ringing in his ears for a few seconds and he opened his eyes, remembering where he was. His stomach. He groaned, rolling to his side and curling into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself. He could hear Coach yelling at him to get up but as soon as he managed to sit up, he felt a rush of something wet and warm in his pants. Shit. Shit shit shit.

His stomach. He groaned, rolling to his side and curling into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself. He could hear Coach yelling at him to get up but as soon as he managed to sit up, he felt a rush of something wet and warm in his pants. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Scott came running, shoving past other players. Stiles looked up to see Melissa and his father wearing a look of shock that he was sure he was mirroring. "Stiles, are you okay? Tell me the truth."

Stiles' breathing became heavy. His eyes were watering and his abdomen was a constant ache. "Not okay. Locker room. Now."

Scott was able to drag his friend off the field, telling the team he'd take Stiles to go sit down and he'd be right back.

They burst through the locker room doors and quickly shut them. He left go of Stiles, who stumbled into the showers, turning one on and sitting shakily on the ground underneath it. Either the room was getting hotter or he was.

Scott followed suit but took a moment to smell the air. He smelled panic. And blood.

"Stiles!" He exclaimed, running into the showers to see his pale-faced friend clutching his stomach, wet hair clinging to his face. Small swirls of pinkish-red led from his pants to the shower drain. "You're bleeding!"

"I'm- I'm bleeding," Stiles repeated anxiously, his breath and heartbeat getting even faster. "Get D-Derek." There were tears running down his face and he choked out a sob.

Scott looked confused and horrified. "Stiles, I'm taking you to a hospital, screw De-"

"Get him. _Now,_ " Stiles growled, and Scott complied hesitantly, pulling his phone out to call Derek.

After telling him to get to the school locker rooms as soon as possible, he hung up, getting closer to a shaking and hurt Stiles. "Will you tell me what the fuck is happening? Please? You're scaring me."

"D-Derek and I, w-w-we did- it-it was only one t-time, I ca- I can't-" Stiles was nearly hyperventilating now, gripping Scott's arm hard as a cramp passed through him. He was sobbing hysterically and he couldn't help it. He was hurting and practically swimming in hormones.

"Did what? Stiles, breathe." He put his hand on Stiles' back, rubbing up and down soothingly. He was shaking harder than he had from any panic attack before and it was scaring the living shit out of Scott. The pinkish-red swirls had turned thicker plain red lines, and his pants were ruined. Scott noticed he had some blood on his own pants and hands, as well. Too much blood.

"Stiles."

The pained boy looked up to see the tall, black-haired man with wide eyes. He took in the sight around him before getting on to the floor to Stiles' level.

"I'm s-so sorry-y, I fu- I fucked up Der, I'm so s-sorry," Stiles cried before moaning as another painful cramp passed through him.

Derek was slowly piecing it together before him before he noticed.

The extra heartbeat. It was very shallow, almost non-existent. "No. No. Are you-?"

"I didn't tell you and I m-messed it all up, I'm so sorry!" Stiles couldn't stop apologizing and Scott still looked just as lost before a look a realization crossed his face as he heard the shallow, small heartbeat as well.

"You... you're pregnant?"

Derek's face paled and he scooped the bloody mess that was Stiles up. His body was rigid, intent on curling in on himself. Stiles didn't answer Scott, only sobbed harder. "Deaton," was all he could manage to say.

Derek nodded and rushed him to his camaro, telling Scott to get back to the game and convince everyone else that Stiles was fine.

Even if he wasn't.

Derek laid Stiles down in the passenger seat and closed the door before getting in on his side and starting the engine. "Why didn't you tell me?" Derek said in a low voice, making their way out of the school parking lot.

Stiles sniffled. "You w-would hate me-"

"Let me just stop you right there," Derek snarled, rounding a corner. "Stop saying I hate you because I don't. And this is about both of us, we both caused this, I deserve to know." He gripped the steering wheel tightly. "That's my pup, Stiles," he said, his voice cracking.

He looked over at Stiles expectantly wait for a response, but he was silent, face contorted in pain and hand clutched over his stomach.

Stiles looked down to see blood starting to stain the seats. His pants were soaked, hell he was soaked from standing under the shower. He was cold and hot at the same time, if that was even possible. His stomach turned at the sight of the excess blood. "I'm gonna be sick."

Derek peeled into the clinic's parking lot and Stiles swung the car door open as he pulled into a parking spot, throwing up. Derek could hear his frantic heartbeat. He got out and rushed to the passenger side, calming Stiles down by rubbing down his neck and spine and letting the nausea pass.

Once it seemed it was over he picked up Stiles from the passenger seat and carried him into the clinic, calling out for Deaton.

The vet came into the lobby and muttered an "oh shit" at the sight of Stiles. There was blood trickling out of his pants, down Derek's arm and onto the floor. He quickly turned the sign at the entrance to say closed. They rushed into the back room and laid Stiles down on the cold metal table, and he groaned in protest.

Derek listened for a minute and started to panic. "I can't hear the heartbeat anymore."

"The fetus is in distress," Deaton stated, gathering different medical supplies from around the room. "We'll have to deliver now."

"Now?" Stiles was yelling, his pain turning his fear into animal-like anger. "I'm only two months along, I can't ju-" he was cut short by a scarily painful cramp. He whined, reaching out for Derek who grabbed him arm, veins turning black and he took away his pain. He looked at him thankfully, blinking away the tears and feeling the rage subside as Derek let go.

"What you're feeling are early contractions brought upon by impact, I'm guessing at the lacrosse game?"

Stiles felt shameful. He should've insisted on being benched, he should've told someone.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something moving lower and lower inside of him. His breathing picked up. "W-what's happening?"

"You're dilating, Stiles. This means in a little bit you'll have to push."

Stiles shook his head wildly. "I can't, it's gonna hurt, I can't-"

"It's going to hurt more if you resist, and the pup won't survive the night if you don't push."

Stiles felt so conflicted. Why did this have to be happening to him? "Derek," he said, breaking his attention away from Stiles' stomach. "Stay by my head." 

Derek nodded respectively, walking over to the side of the table where Stiles' head lay.

Stiles' legs were placed in stirrups that weren't there at the end of the table a few minutes ago. His face turned bright pink, feeling very exposed. A small sheet was laid across Stiles so that only Deaton could see what was going on.

"You look nearly fully dilated, so when you feel another contraction, go ahead and push."

Stiles looked up at Derek, eyes watering. His hormones were sending him all over the place. "I'm so sorry about this Der, I'm such a bad-"

"Shh, Stiles," Derek said in a hushed tone, pushing back Stiles' damp hair from his face. "Focus on right now. Focus on you. On the pup."

Stiles felt a familiar wave of pain pass over him and he involuntarily pushed, head to his chest, gripping Derek's hand so tightly that Derek was afraid it might break. He stopped, letting his head fall back to the table as he gasped for air.

"You're doing so good baby, you're almost there." Derek's voice was soothing, unlike usual. He felt this sudden protection over Stiles and his pup, one so strong that he'd probably kill a man for the one laying in front of him.

Stiles started pushing again, arms and legs shaking but making progress. Moments later, a small, weak cry filled the room and Derek's heart nearly burst. That was his, it was Stiles'. It was theirs.

"We'll need to put this little..." Deaton examined the pup for a short second. "Girl. We'll need to put this little girl in an incubator until she's strong enough."

"A girl?" Stiles breathed, feeling very groggy and exhausted but overcome with tearful joy. He looked over at Derek, who had one hand clasped over Stiles' shoulder to remove any residual pain, and one cupped over his mouth. And for once, Derek was crying. Literal, actual tears were falling from his face and Stiles couldn't help but cry with him.

Once his legs were removed from the stirrups he relaxed, feeling Derek scoop him up into his arms. He wanted to fall asleep so bad but his eyes were glued to the small glass box that Deaton was setting the pup in, watching to make sure she wouldn't get harmed.

"What's her name?" Deaton asked, placing monitors and IVs and god knows what to the small feeble pup.

Derek looked down at Stiles, who's attention was still tuned in on the glass box. "Claudia," Stiles said breathlessly.

Derek's heart was about to explode when the clinic door swung open.

"We're closed!" Deaton called out.

"Like hell you are!" Scott's voice boomed through the clinic. "Where's Stiles?" He rushed into the back room to see Stiles laying limply in Derek's arms. And he heard the crying.

Scott turned his head to the glass box, in awe. "Your pup," he said quietly, walking towards it.

"Don't get any closer," Derek said with a growl. He could feel the protective side taking over but he didn't care.

Scott put his hands up, walking backward. "Alright, alright. How's Stiles holding up?"

Stiles, who was currently sleeping with his face in the crook of Derek's neck, stirred. "'M fine, Scod," he slurred, feeling like he was floating with Derek taking away any possible pain.

Scott chuckled, wiping at his eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Stiles. You're stronger than most people would be in this situation."

"Mm," was all Stiles could really muster up.

Stiles slept the whole way to Derek's loft, as he insisted he stay there and not sleep alone at his own house. Scott was sent out to reassure Stiles' father that yes, he was okay, and would be staying at his house for the night. Stiles' would tell his dad when he was ready. It was only as they pulled into Derek's driveway that Stiles sat up quickly. His heartbeat suddenly picked up.

"The pup, the pup, where is she?" Stiles panicked, looking in the backseat and over at Derek.

"She's with Deaton, she's too weak to be outside that incubator, remember? She's okay, and so are you," Derek reassured him, leaning forward and holding Stiles' hand, hearing his heartbeat slow down.

"Right, you're right," Stiles exhaled, falling back to his seat. He took a deep breath through his nose. The past few months had been intense, to say the least.

Derek carried Stiles to the bedroom upstairs, laying him gently on the bed and pulling up the blankets around him. "You did such a good job today. You powered through. You did it." He laid down next to him, pulling Stiles close to his chest.

He could hear Stiles sniffling and tasted the salty tears in the air. "What is it?"

"I-I miss her already. I need her. I need to hold her, Der." Stiles let quiet tears come down his stupid hormonal face.

"Shh, shh, you will. But for now, you need to rest. You both do."

After a few minutes, Stiles breathing had become slow and deep, indicating he was asleep. Derek looked down at him and felt love, pure love, surging through his chest.

 _Family,_ he thought to himself, pushing back Stiles' hair and tracing his face with his fingers.

_I have a family._

**Author's Note:**

> **BEFORE YOU COMMENT**  
> Yes, I realize there's no physical way for a fetus to survive outside the womb at around two months, there's no denying that. Let's just assume that werewolf pups develop faster in the womb than humans. I'm not an expert on this.  
> No, I didn't want him to be further along as he would have started showing and it would have started to become obvious to his family and friends. If you were expecting Stiles to miscarry, surprise!! I couldn't bring myself to write that, which was the original idea for the ending.  
> Yes, I realize I already have a fic titled "I'm Fine" but guess who's got two thumbs and doesn't care??? This Guy  
> No, I don't think birth is disgusting/bad/shameful/negative. If it comes across like that to you, go read something else.  
> And most importantly, at the end of the day, this is a fictional story based on a fictional character from a fictional show. I can make this as wild and unrealistic as I want.  
> Alright.  
> ***orphaned for reasons. thanks for your support


End file.
